


Of Dresses and Suits

by backtothestart02



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, pre-wedding, westallen wedding week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: Barry tries to find the right size and color tuxedo. Iris comes along.*written for westallen wedding week





	Of Dresses and Suits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 (What's in a Dress - bride, groom, bridesmaids, etc.) of Westallen Wedding Week on tumblr. Enjoy!
> 
> *Many thanks to my awesome beta, sendtherain, for looking this over (and also coming up w/ the title for me!). <3

An aggravated sigh escaped his lips, and Iris was forced to glance up to see if his complaint was any different this time than it had been any time before.

“This doesn’t feel fair, Iris.”

_Nope._

“What doesn’t, babe?” she asked, as if she didn’t really know.

Barry rolled his eyes, then mumbled something under his breath that she would bet her shiny engagement ring was something very similar to what he’d said the three times prior.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, unable to help herself. “What was that?”

He glared. She waited. He bit his cheek, pressing his tongue up against the inside of his mouth, and then made himself say it.

“You get to see me, but I don’t get to see you.”

“I’m right here, honey,” she said amused.

“You know what I mean.”

“Ah, you mean you don’t get to see me in my wedding dress.”

He said nothing.

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding in her wedding dress.”

“On the day of. We’re not getting married for another month.”

“Still bad luck,” she said, opening her purse to take out some lipstick and apply it.

She turned away from him towards the mirrors he was supposed to be examining himself in so she could make sure she got it on just right. She popped her lips, and he crossed his arms across his chest in annoyance that she was so flippantly unbothered by how unsettled he was.

They both heard the rip.

“Oh, _babe_.”

Barry’s eyes widened, his face flushed, the too tight button-down shirt practically suffocating him at the collar.

“All right, I’ve found the next size. We’ll try this one. If it doesn’t fit, we’ll have to measure you for—”

The older man stopped in the middle of the room. His face fell, his bushy gray eyebrows emphasizing his grief.

“Did you…” He turned to look at Iris, then back at Barry, then at the mirrors away from them both. His shoulders slumped. “Sir, did you remember to stand _still_?” He looked back at Barry.

Iris bit her bottom lip and grinned, staring at her husband-to-be, anticipating what his answer would be.

“I…well, I…”

Barry gave Iris a look that begged for help, but she only shrugged her shoulders, offering no assistance.

There was no need to answer. The aging salesman had accepted his fate. He approached Barry and gestured for him to hold out his arms carefully so he could relieve him of the tuxedo jacket without it ripping further.

“It is just that you are so _tall_ ,” he explained, not for the first time. “And your arms are so _long_.” He shook his head, a tsk-tsk on the tip of his tongue. “And we haven’t even gotten to your trousers yet!”

Iris raised her eyebrows, barely suppressing a giggle – or a snort.

“That will likely take hours,” the older man said with clear dismay.

Barry shot Iris another anxious look.

“Maybe we should just try the largest size you’ve got,” she suggested.

“Hmm?” he turned to look at her.

“The largest size,” she repeated. “We haven’t even decided if we are for sure going to go with black. Let’s see what color looks good on him and then we can get the exact measurement for his suit.”

He was grateful, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I think I’d look pretty good in a red suit,” he said cheerfully.

Iris’s eyebrows narrowed. _You wouldn’t._

“Red?!” The salesman asked, scandalized. He rounded to look at Barry after he’d folded the tuxedo jacket over his arm. “For a _wedding_?”

Barry tried to speak, but the salesman was too appalled to let him.

“Don’t do that to your bride, please,” he begged him.

“Yes, _Barry_ ,” Iris said cheekily, watching as her fiancé stood frozen in place, staring down at the horror-stricken man, unsure how to proceed. “Don’t do that to me.”

“I…I wasn’t being serious, sir,” he said carefully. “I’m sure we’ll end up going with something far more traditional.”

Iris frowned, leaning her head against the mirror again.

“What would be the fun in that?” she pouted.

Barry looked up at her and held her gaze, torn between amusement, panic, and irritation.

“As long as you don’t do lime green,” the older man said, shuddering.

“Someone actually did that?” Iris asked intrigued.

The man nodded. “Some six months ago. Said he wanted to match the grass since the ceremony was outside.”

Iris’s brows furrowed, and so did Barry’s.

“Did his fiancée come with him to the fittings?” Barry asked a beat before Iris could.

“ _No_ ,” the man said with clear disgust. “ _No one_ came with him. Had it not been frowned upon to refuse a sale, I would have done so!”

When he spotted both Barry and Iris looking at him with shocked expressions, he shook his head and returned to an air of professionalism.

“I shall fetch our largest size in this color. Then we can go from there.” He turned to Iris. “Miss?”

She quirked her head in response.

“Perhaps you would like to come with me? I can show you some more of our selection. Maybe you will know what best goes with your dress.”

Despite herself, she smiled, stepping away from the mirror.

“Of course.”

She followed the man out of the room, looking over her shoulder at Barry and sending him a wink before they left him to his privacy.

He turned back to the mirror and sighed, carefully unbuttoning the top button on his collar and exhaling with relief when it was achieved. He would have to get a larger shirt too.

Twenty minutes later, Iris and the friendly, older salesman re-entered with a cart loaded with many sizes and colors.

Barry’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in horror.

“What the… I thought…”

“Sir, is it true that you were deliberately trying to see your bride in her wedding dress before the wedding day?” the older man demanded, almost shaking in his anger.

Iris smiled smugly beside him.

“I…”

“Here are our largest sizes and several of our colors. Hopefully you will not rip any of them or your bill will be quite expensive today, young man.” He switched his gaze to Iris. “Come find me when you are finished or if you need anything at all, dear.”

Iris smiled sweetly, letting him take her hand and kiss the back of it.

“I will. Thank you.”

The older man held her hand for a moment longer to eye her engagement ring. Then he turned to look at Barry with some suspicion but also hesitant admiration.

“This is a nice ring.”

“Passed down from my grandfather,” Barry muttered under his breath.

“His grandfather proposed to his grandmother after the war. Got down on one knee the moment he spotted her after coming home.”

The salesman practically melted. “Now that is the way to propose.” His brows scrunched together. “What did your fiancé do?”

“I sang,” Barry said defensively.

“Was I asking you?” he asked, raising one brow. Iris just barely kept the giggle inside that time.

“He did,” she hurried to say. “Sang an original song. It’s going to be the song playing for our first dance.” Her eyes locked on Barry’s as she spoke, softening, remembering when he sang to her.

The salesman looked between the two of them caught up in each other and softened too.

“Well then. That sounds very nice,” he said warmly.

Neither Barry nor Iris appeared to register his presence, so he quietly backed out of the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“You are so beautiful,” Barry said once the old man had left. “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

Iris joined him in the center of the room, drawn to him like a magnet.

“Sweet-talking me will not get me to show you my wedding dress,” she informed him.

His crooked grin was nearly her undoing.

“Will it get me a kiss, though?”

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered.

“Maybe,” she said, her breath stolen from her.

Barry reached out his hand. She took it and stood on the platform with him, sinking into the kiss when their lips touched, moaning softly when he deepened it.

“Do I really have to try on all these clothes?” Barry whispered into her mouth. The suggestiveness to his tone was unmistakable. _Wouldn’t you rather go home instead?_

 _Be strong, Iris_. “Yes.”

“Are you trying to punish me just for wanting to see how beautiful you’ll look on our wedding day?”

She groaned and pressed her forehead to his chest.

“You are _hopeless_.”

He grinned into her hair, and then before she knew it, he had lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She gasped, his name on the tip of her tongue—but then she heard it. They both did.

Riiiiiiiiip.

“Oh, _Barry_.”


End file.
